


Wedding Bells

by MsWikit



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:19:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2370812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsWikit/pseuds/MsWikit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard and Garrus are ready to tie the knot, but only after they jump through the various hurtles and traditions that come with an inter-species marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wedding Bells

“If it were any other human, you know what my answer would be,” Galverus says, folding his hands together on top of the table. Garrus’s sister Solana sits beside him. As part of his family, she has a say in this decision. But Galverus has the ultimate authority in this matter; he’s the head of the clan, after all.

Garrus tries to hide his annoyance. His father has never liked humans. He’s a veteran of the First Contact War, and as a result harbored a grudge that had been carried into the later years of his life. “Yes, I know.”

“But Commander Shepard,” his father continues, his sub-vocals suggesting a hint of respect that surprises Garrus, “is the very best humanity has to offer. Maybe even the galaxy.”

Garrus holds his breath. 

“I would be proud to call her my daughter,” Galverus finally concedes.

Garrus and Solana let out a sigh of relief at the same time. Their father almost smiles. 

*

“How’d it go?” Shepard is standing outside his father’s home, staring out at the construction zone that was once one of the largest cities on Palaven. Recovery efforts have been slow-going, but steady. Soon things will be back to normal. But she doubts the scars of the war will ever truly fade. 

“He said yes,” Garrus says, pulling her close. 

Shepard laughs, hugging him tight. The hardest part is over, she thinks. Asking Garrus’s father to approve their union was something that had been weighing heavy on their minds ever since they decided to get married. Shepard could have done without his blessing, and she knew that Garrus could too. But it would have weighed heavy on his mind. Turians put a lot of stock in family and bloodlines. Not having the approval of your parents for a marriage was the worst insult they could offer you. 

“On the condition,” Garrus adds, “that we follow turian tradition.”

“Done.” Shepard kisses him happily, wrapping her arms around him tightly. “Just so long as we can add in a couple of human traditions, too.”

Garrus presses his forehead against hers, humming happily. “I’m sure it can be arranged. But we still have to ask your family, you know.”

*

The farmhouse is still standing, which surprises her. A couple of the windows are broken, and one of the shutters is hanging on by a thread. Once the house was white and pristine. Now it has been turned a bloody red by the dust in the wind. Shepard feels a pang of guilt; the house is in her name. She hasn’t set foot on Mindoir in seventeen years, and as a result her childhood home has fallen into disrepair. 

They walk back behind the house, where her family is buried. Mindoirians love their land, and the vast majority choose to be buried on their own property. 

She stops when she sees the tombstones. Garrus sets a hand on her shoulder and squeezes it gently. Reassuring, encouraging. Shepard places her hand over his, and for the millionth time since the war wonders what she’d do without him.

They walk forward together. There are three tombstones: her mother, her father, her brother. When they’re close enough to read the names she stops again.

_Hannah N. Shepard  
May 2nd, 2130 – June 16th, 2170_

_Jacob M. Shepard  
February 17th, 2129 – June 16th, 2170_

_John J. Shepard  
April 11th, 2154 – June 16th, 2170_

She doesn’t feel sad. She feels guilty. Guilty that she let herself forget about them for so long. Guilty that she left their home to fall into disrepair. Guilty that she never once came to lay flowers on their graves.

“You alright?” he asks.

Shepard nods. “Just…just wish I came to do this sooner, is all.”

Garrus lays out the offering. The turians have a ceremony, a way of honoring the dead and ‘asking’ for their blessing. She watches as Garrus lays a large wreath across their graves. He places a gift in front of each tombstone: money for her mother, a bottle of wine for her father, a knife for her brother. He’d explained the significance of everything to her on the way over. Money to assure her mother that he was financially stable and capable of caring for their future children. Wine as a show of respect and admiration to her father. A knife to show her brother that he could defend his bride-to-be and their children. All of the gifts were carefully laid out according to turian tradition. 

“What now?” she says, grabbing his hand.

“You can say a few words, if you want,” he answers.

For a moment she is silent. Then she says, “…so, this is Garrus.”

His mandibles flare ever so slightly in amusement. He squeezes her hand.

“He’s great,” she continues. “We’ve been through hell and back together. Kind of a smartass, but I think you’d like him…I know he’s probably not what you had in mind for my future husband. But he’s great. If it wasn’t for him…I don’t know what I would do.”

Garrus presses his mouth against her temple, a gentle and reassuring kiss. 

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry it’s been so long,” she adds. “I’ll make it up to you.”

*

The house is the same as the day it all went to hell.

There are still dishes in the sink that have been waiting seventeen years to be washed. When she opens the fridge the toxic smell of rotted food comes rushing out. Gagging, Shepard closes it again. 

“Not a bad place,” Garrus says as he walks in from the living room. “Just needs some tender love and attention is all. Sight lines aren’t bad. The window in the living room is a little big for my tastes, but we can always get it sized down. We’ll also need to get some security tech but that shouldn’t be too-”

“Garrus,” Shepard says, amused and exasperated. “Think of it as a house, not a fort.”

He walks over and wraps his arms around her waist. “If we’re going to be raising a family here, I want to make sure it’s _safe_.”

She imagines herself cooking in this kitchen, walking along the old trails with Garrus, sitting on a cliff and watching the sunset with a toddler in her lap. The house would have life again. Life and love and happiness.

“You still haven’t checked out upstairs,” she says, grabbing his hand. “Come on.”

There are only three rooms upstairs. (They’ll have to expand, she thinks. They’ve both decided they want to adopt as many children as possible). One is her parents'. The bed is neatly made, and her father’s boots are still sitting by the door. There is makeup lying out beside her mother’s mirror. The room across the hall was her and her brother’s. (That had irritated her so much back then; sixteen years old and still sharing a bedroom with her brother!)

Both of their beds are still unmade. The desk that they shared is just as messy as she remembers it. There’s clothes all over the floors and posters on the wall. 

“I take it this side of the room was your brother’s,” Garrus says, slyly appraising a half-naked asari poster over one of the beds.

“Yep,” she said, smirking. “Mom _hated_ that poster. But he refused to take it down. They had an argument about it at least once a week.”

Garrus chuckles. “So, uh. What do you want to do with all of…this?”

“Put it in the attic, I guess,” Shepard says, glancing around. There are pieces of her in this room that she forget she ever had. There’s an open sketchbook lying on her bed. The pages are all yellowed and the penciled drawings are faded. She walks closer and picks up the book. The page is open to a drawing of a Mindoirian crow, though they resemble ancient dinosaurs more than they do actual crows. The sketch is half-finished. Started long ago and never picked up again. 

“Did you do that?” Garrus asks, peering over her shoulder curiously. “I never knew you were an artist, Jane.”

“Not much time to practice in the military,” she says, flipping through the pages. “After a while I stopped thinking about it entirely.”

He nuzzles her and curls his arms around her waist. “Maybe it’s a hobby you can pick up again in retirement.”

Shepard chuckles. “I’m not sure I’ll be any good at it still.”

“What’s that saying humans have? Something about not forgetting- elephants never forget?” Garrus proposes.

She smacks his chest lightly. “I think the phrase you’re looking for is ‘it’s like riding a bicycle; you never forget’. I’m not an elephant!”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Garrus says with a chuckle. “Though I don’t think I know what a bicycle is, to be completely honest. I guess it’s one of those human things I’ll have to figure out. I’ve got a lot of time on my hands now.”

She turns and plants a kiss on one of his mandibles. “No, you don’t. We have a wedding to plan, remember?”

*

“I want you to be my Maid of Honor,” Shepard says, smiling at Liara over a cup of coffee.

Liara seems shocked. Confused almost. “Shepard, I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll do it?” Shepard proposes.

“Of course I will,” Liara agrees with a nod. She pauses. “Only…I don’t really know what a Maid of Honor _is_.”

Shepard pauses, then takes a moment to laugh at herself. Of course Liara doesn’t know anything about human marriage customs. She shakes her head, and then starts to explain. 

*

“I still do not understand what a ‘bridesmaid’ is,” Solana says, glancing at the other ladies sitting on the couch with her. 

“Shepard told me it’s a tradition in certain human cultures,” Tali said with a shrug. 

Liara pulls up a screen on her omni-tool. “I did a bit of research on it after Shepard gave me the basics…it’s believed that the practice arose from ancient humans trying to confuse evil spirits. It was believed that the demons would not know which young girl was the bride, and therefore would not know whose marriage to curse. Now, of course, it’s more of a tradition than anything else.”

Ashley leans back against the couch. “Basically we help her get ready, keep her from running when she gets cold feet, and the Maid of Honor gets to plan her bachelorette party and give a speech at the wedding.”

The three alien women on the couch turned towards her in confusion. “Bachelorette party?”

Ashley rolls her eyes and sighs. “That’s what she gets for making her Maid of Honor an asari.”

“Play nice, Ash,” Shepard says as she walks out with the bridal shop attendant. She stands in front of the mirrors, looking at the dress. According to turian tradition, a bride wears a dress with the colors of her home colony. Earth, however, does not have planet-wide colors. So perhaps she’ll just end up leaving it white.

“Shepard, you look beautiful!” Liara gasps. 

She smiles and looks at herself in the mirror. The dress is simple with a gentle lace overlay. There’s an intricate lace collar that still leaves her shoulders free. It’s elegant and beautiful, and vaguely vintage-looking. She didn’t have much of an eye for fashion, but she could imagine herself getting married in this dress.

“I like this one the best,” Tali says. “It makes you look like a queen.”

“Can’t believe I’m agreeing with her, but it really does,” Ashley said, smirking.

Shepard tries to imagine Garrus’s face when he sees her in this dress. She smiles.

*

“Ow!” Shepard sticks her now bleeding finger in her mouth and frowns down at the veil laid across her lap. Turian tradition dictates that the bride and her sisters (or future sisters) embroider the veil that her new husband will place on her head once they were officially married. As per tradition, the veil matches the color of her groom’s colony: blue.

“You’re pretty bad at this,” Solana observes in amusement.

“I’m a soldier, not a homemaker,” Shepard says, frowning at the needle in her hand. “My mom never taught me how to do this.”

Solana reaches over and takes the needle from her. “Luckily, mine did. She thought it was important that Garrus and I knew how to take care of a home. Though Garrus was always terrible at this sort of thing.”

Garrus receiving embroidery lessons from his mother. Now _that_ she had to see. “What sort of decorations are we supposed to put on here to begin with?”

“That depends on the bride,” Solana says. 

“Helpful,” Shepard says.

Solana laughs. “Now, watch me. You thread it through just like this- see? Easy. And I have two less fingers than you.”

“Hey now,” Shepard says, taking the veil back with a grin. They both giggle.

*

“My father is?” Garrus asks.

“Galverus Vakarian,” Shepard answers immediately.

“My mother?”

“Sillonia Hilascus-Vakarian.”

“My father’s parents?”

“Nolius Vakarian and Annea Quenmus-Vakarian.”

“My mother’s parents?”

“Drutus Hilascus and Ulteia Donnicus-Hilascus.”

Garrus looks over at her, impressed. It’s customary for turian brides to learn their groom’s lineage, typically all the way back to the founder of his clan. So far they’ve made good progress. “Not bad.”

“How many generations do we have to get through?” Shepard asks.

“Oh, about two hundred and four,” Garrus says.

Shepard groans.

*

“So how’s the wedding planning going?” Joker asks, glancing down at the holopad that serves as the restaurant’s menu.

“As well as it can,” Shepard says. “I’m almost done embroidering the veil, and I think I’ve got most of Garrus’s lineage down. And Liara is handling a lot of the organization. She’s a life saver.”

“Anymore weird turian traditions you need to get through?” Joker asks with a smirk.

She sighs slightly. “There’s a ceremony we have to do to. I technically count as ‘barefaced’, even though I’m not a turian. It means I don’t really have a home, or a clan. For us to get married I have to be adopted into a clan. According to Galverus, anyway.”

Joker starts to laugh. “So you have to find yourself a pair of turian parents?”

“Primarch Victus sent me a message and volunteered once he heard of the engagement,” she says. “By turian standards, I’d technically be considered his daughter.”

Joker whistles. “I don’t guess you’ll be calling him daddy any time soon.”

She gives him a look that makes him burst into laughter. Shaking her head, she continues. “It’s not just turian traditions though; I’ve got bridesmaids. And I finally got Galverus to agree to let someone walk me down the aisle.”

“Primarch Victus?” Joker asks with a bemused grin.

“No,” Shepard says, rolling her eyes. “I was going to ask _you_.”

Joker freezes for a moment, looking at her in shock. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

For a split second she thinks he’ll turn her down. Then Joker shrugs. “Well, I’m not too great at walking. More of a hobble, really. But if that’s what you want.”

“It is,” she says. “You’re like a brother to me, Joker.”

Joker smiles slightly. “So, is this the part where I start breaking your stuff and sticking gum in your hair?”

*

“…and though this child is not of your blood, know that she will forever be part of your clan. Her successes will be yours, as will her misfortunes. She will look to your ancestors for guidance, and their spirits will envelope her when the day of her passing comes. Do you understand and accept this?” the turian priest says, looking towards Shepard’s new ‘parents’.

Primarch Victus nods once. “I do.”

The priest looks to Victus’s wife, Milovea Phodas-Victus. She nods as well. “I do.”

After receiving the signal from the priest, Milovea picks up a brush and a special paint mixture. Typically turian tattoos are permanent, but as a human Shepard is allowed to get away with semi-permanent. The paint will remain for several months, but will fade after a year or so. 

Milovea begins to apply of the markings, which is her right as her new ‘mother’. When Shepard squirms, Milovea chides her in a firm but gentle voice. It takes almost an hour for her to apply the paint, and when she is done she offers her new daughter a small smile. 

“Jane Elissa Shepard-Victus,” the priest says, addressing her directly, “Daughter of Adrien Victus and Milovea Phodas-Victus, sister to the fallen Tarquin Victus, bear your name proudly.”

*

“Jane Elissa Shepard-Victus,” Garrus says contemplatively. “Quite the name you have now.”

“Shut up,” she says, resting her head against his chest.

“And in just a couple of days, you’ll be Jane Elissa Shepard-Victus-Vakarian,” he says, grinning. 

“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll just keep signing for packages as Jane E. Shepard.” She kisses him, and he nips at her lips playfully. “Maybe Jane E. Shepard-Vakarian. If I’m feeling generous.”

*

She looks at herself in the mirror. She’s let her hair grow out since retiring, and it’s long enough now to put into a bun. Liara fits a jeweled hairpiece in, then gently smooths a stray piece of hair back behind her ear. 

“You look lovely,” she says. 

“Like a queen?” Shepard asks, shooting a smile towards Tali. 

Tali nods. “Exactly.”

“Not to rush you guys or anything,” Joker says, hobbling into the room, “but turians generally like things to be punctual.”

“Of course,” Liara says, nodding. “Let’s get this show on the road, then.”

Ashley, Liara, and Tali file out, followed closely by Joker and Shepard. As she loops her arm through his, Joker glances at her.

“Cold feet?” he asks.

“Nope,” Shepard answers.

“Guess getting married isn’t nearly as freaky as facing the Reapers,” Joker says. 

“The in-laws though? Terrifying.” Shepard has met a lot of people from all walks of life, but almost none of them were as intimidating as Galverus Vakarian. He is the very model of the stern, iron-willed turian. It’s no wonder he and Garrus had had such a strained relationship for so long.

Joker gives her arm a reassuring squeeze as the doors open. “You’re the savior of the galaxy; you can take him.”

The humans in the audience turn and stand in a typical show of respect for the bride. The aliens in the room seem confused, but follow suit after a few moments. As they begin to walk down towards the turian priestess and Garrus, Joker mutters to her, “Last chance to back out.”

She smiles. “Not on your life.”

“You’ve earned this Commander,” Joker says quietly. They’re almost to Garrus now. “Glad we both lived to see this.”

“I’m retired now Joker,” she replies. “Call me Jane.”

He smiles. They stop, and he hands her off to Garrus. “Take care of her, Garrus.”

Garrus nods and takes Shepard’s hand in her own. They both turn towards the priestess, and the wedding ceremony begins. It ends after an exchanging of vows and a very, very, _very_ long speech from the priestess about the importance of duty and family. It’s only then that Garrus is able to take the cerulean blue veil and place it on his new bride. This, typically, would be the end of the ceremony for turians. Many of those attending begin to clap.

Shepard clears her throat and looks at the priestess pointedly. They’d discussed one slight addition to the ceremony, which she seems to have forgotten.

“Oh! Yes. You may now kiss the bride,” the priestess hastily adds.

Garrus grabs Shepard immediately, and the two share a kiss. The room erupts in applause.

*

Turian wedding receptions are far different from human ones. Instead of dancing and enjoying the evening with their guests, the newly married couple sits in a pair of chairs and receives congratulations and gifts. Dancing and singing is for guests only. Shepard doesn’t mind it, however; she enjoys being able to sit and talk with her husband.

“So, how does it feel to be a Vakarian?” Garrus asks, squeezing Shepard’s hand. 

“Pretty damn good,” she replies, grinning. “Especially since your dad paid for all this.”

Garrus shrugs. “It’s turian tradition. I read somewhere that ancient human marriage practices usually involved ownership over the bride, but it was never that way with us. We saw it as an investment. Someone new to bring honor to our family, and to have children that would carry on our line. So the groom’s side typically pays for everything in a show of welcome.”

“Glad to know your dad thinks I’m worth it,” Shepard says.

“Of course he does. He respects you, you know. Not a lot of people can say the same,” Garrus says. 

“Only took three years of saving the galaxy to get him to like me,” Shepard says. She glances out into the crowd, and sees a familiar face walking towards them. “Speak of the devil.”

They stand when Galverus approaches them, a sign of respect show only to the head of their clan. He nods once. “It’s a fine affair. No major hiccups, no nasty surprises.”

“Not every day something involving me and Jane goes according to plan,” Garrus quips. “Usually something has blown up by now.”

Shepard laughs. Galverus is slightly less amused, but seems to allow the remark to slide. It is, after all, his son’s wedding day. “I only want to offer my congratulations, and remind you Jane how proud I am to have you in the clan. Though it is…highly unusual for a human to be welcomed into our society in this way, you are still my daughter.”

She nods. “I’m happy you approved our union, Galverus.”

“Just know that I will hold you to the same standards that I hold my other children,” he says, giving Garrus a rather pointed look. 

“Duly noted,” she says.

With that, he nods and walks back into the crowd. Garrus sits back down with a heavy sigh. “And that is the most praise you’ll ever get out of him.”

Smiling, Shepard sits down beside him again. “I can live with that.”

*

“Garrus, a little help?” Shepard says, staring up at the top shelf of the pantry. 

“I’ve got you,” he says, walking over. 

“I need the peanut butter,” she says.

He hands it to her and chuckles slightly. “Cravings again?”

“Your kid likes peanut butter for some reason,” she replies with a shrug. She sits down at the table where as a little girl she’d sat and colored. Outside the sun is setting over Mindoir, casting everything in a golden light.

Garrus sits down across from her. “We still haven’t talked about names, you know.”

“I was thinking Sillonia for a girl,” she says, swallowing a mouthful of peanut butter.

Her husband considers the name for a moment, then nods. “I’d like that. But what if it’s a boy? Maybe John? After your brother? Or David?”

“David?” Shepard repeats, though the name is mangled in her mouth thanks to another helping of peanut butter.

“After Anderson,” he says.

She swallows again, carefully considering. “Would your father be ok with that? Him having a human name, I mean.”

“I don’t see why not,” he says with a shrug. “He already let me marry one.”

“And thank God for that.” Shepard smiles. She reaches across the table, grabbing his hand. “I love you, Garrus Vakarian.”

“I love you too, Jane Elissa Shepard-Victus-Vakarian,” Garrus says, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

Shepard laughs, pulling her hand away and standing up. “That’s it, you ruined it.”

“Aw, come on!” he says playfully.

“Nope, the moment’s gone,” she says. She throws her hands up and walks out of the kitchen. She makes her way on to the back porch. From there she can sit and see her family’s graves, now well-tended with fresh flowers sitting on each. She sets a hand over the small bump on her stomach. It all seems so impossible. Living here with Garrus, her husband, and pregnant with his child. The Reapers gone, her childhood home reclaimed…it’s the happy ending she never allowed herself to even dream of.

 _And for the first time in seventeen years, this house will have life again_ , she thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be just a short little drabble but it ended up being a whole mini-fic. Ah well. Maybe one day I'll write something explaining how Garrus knocked up Shepard.


End file.
